


cohosts

by adrianicsea



Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brief mention of self-harm, Existentialism, Gen, Host Lee Sizemore, Host Logan Delos, M/M, Post-S2 Finale AU, Pre-Slash, Trans Man Logan Delos, despite all these tags this fic is pretty light and silly, maeve and hector are barely in this just to be clear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 09:03:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18891451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianicsea/pseuds/adrianicsea
Summary: It's been three months since Lee died, but he's doing pretty well despite that, living among Maeve's small commune of rebel hosts who exist underground in the outside world. The only thing he's not so sure about is the resurrected Logan Delos who's been set loose on the grounds.





	cohosts

**Author's Note:**

> I've always been fascinated by imagining the dynamic between Lee and Logan, but given the state of things at the end of season 2, the only way they could ever interact would be if they were both brought back as hosts. The season 3 announcement gave me the burst of energy I needed to pop this fic out, so I hope you all enjoy it, or at the very least humor it!
> 
> Another sidebar-- I am well aware that this doesn't really match up with the way things happened in the s2 finale, but that's the magic of AUs. Please forgive the discrepancies, and again, I hope you enjoy/humor despite that!

            “So you’re the writer, huh?”

            Lee looked up from the blueprints he had been studying to find a tall, lithe man leaning against the doorway, studying him with glittering black eyes. Lee opened his mouth to greet Hector—until he realized it wasn’t Hector at all.

            “Was,” Lee corrected. He swallowed and stood a little straighter, though he remained in his position leaning over the table. “Before everything started writing itself.”

            The man scoffed and nodded.

            “Right,” he said. He sounded different than Lee had imagined—the cadence of his speech was ever-changing, smooth and slow one moment and a deliberately-pitched staccato the next. There was something almost gentle about that voice, though, even despite all that had happened to the man who owned it.

            “Right,” Lee agreed. He reached up to tug at his shirt collar, before returning his attention to his work. It was hard to focus with the feeling of those eyes on him, though, and he could _feel_ the other presence in the room through the mesh net Maeve had warned him about. It was all a bit much to take in.

            “You’re not gonna ask who I am?” came the voice. Lee didn’t need to look up—he could picture the raised eyebrow, the put-upon blinking, the subtle pout.

            “Don’t have to,” he answered. “I know who you are, Logan.”

            Lee heard Logan sigh. He looked up just in time to see Logan finish rolling his eyes.

            “I’m just trying to make some fuckin’ conversation,” Logan said. “You’re the _one_ person in this little band of misfits that I don’t know, because I died before you joined the company and your precocious little psyche somehow never got dumped in the Forge. Humor me.”

            Lee felt a low heat begin to crawl up his throat. He sighed and rolled up the blueprints before standing up straight to look Logan in the eye.

            “Fine,” Lee said, and he forced a smile. “Who are you?”

            Logan stepped into the room, and as if by magic, suddenly he was smooth and calm as a lake, and his eyes sparkled like waves on a moonlit ocean.

            “I’m your new favorite fantasy,” he purred.

            Lee didn’t know whether to laugh, or take a step back, or call for Maeve to protect him—in his haste to make a decision and act on it, he chose all three, and he stumbled backwards from the table with a high, choked noise of panic. Right away, Logan stopped where he stood and laughed.

            “Relax,” he said. “I’m not gonna bother you, Bret Easton Ellis. Just fuckin’ with ya.”

            Lee sniffed and crossed his arms as he frowned at Logan. He ignored the warmth that had conquered his neck and settled in his cheeks.

            “I resent both the ‘fucking’ and the Ellis comparison, I’ll have you know.”

            “Oh, do you?”

            Logan grinned and came around the table to sit on it. He moved with a slight limp in one leg, Lee noticed—was it a holdover from his human life, or a technical flaw, something gone awry in the rebuilding process?

            “Well,” Logan continued, “maybe if I knew what your name actually is…”

            Lee tried to deepen his frown, but he felt his shoulders dropping against his will.

            “You really don’t know?” he asked. “I-I mean—I figured Maeve would have told you—”

            Logan shrugged and began kicking one leg lazily back and forth as he made himself comfortable on the table.

            “She called you Sizemore,” he said. “I hope for your sake that that’s not your first name.”

            “It’s not,” Lee said right away. Logan blinked and watched him in silence, and Lee took a cautious step closer to the table again.

            “My name is Lee,” he said. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Logan.”

            Logan gave Lee a wide, bright smile and reached out his hand. Lee took it and, tentatively, smiled back as they shook hands. Logan’s skin felt real beneath Lee’s touch—and why shouldn’t it, Lee thought? His own skin didn’t feel any different, nor did Maeve’s, nor Hector’s…

            “Finally?”

            “Wh-what?” Lee asked, startled from his thoughts. Logan withdrew his hand to settle it on his knee.

            “You said ‘finally meet me,’” Logan explained. He leaned backwards, and Lee watched as his long, elegant fingers sprawled out across the pile of blueprints. “You been waiting for me, Lee?”

            Lee huffed and shook his head. He turned around to lean against the table near Logan, though he didn’t hop on top of it like Logan had.

            “Not waiting,” Lee said. “Just…”

            He trailed off as he considered how best to explain the situation to Logan.

            “You’ve met Hector, yes?” Lee asked. He turned to look up at Logan, and Logan flashed him a wide grin and winked.

            “Oh, I’ve met Hector,” he said. “You made him, right?” Logan nudged his knee against Lee’s shoulder. “That was a true act of philanthropy. Really, thank you.”

            Lee frowned.

            “He’s not a piece of meat, you know. And he’s absolutely _taken_ with Maeve, so don’t even think about it.”

            Logan groaned and threw his head back in an exaggerated gesture of annoyance. For such a successful businessman, and the man whose consciousness had been assimilated with an AI, Lee hadn’t expected Logan to be so… petulant.

            “Okay, White Hat,” Logan said. “Can’t blame a guy for looking, though, especially since I’ve finally got a fucking _body_ again.”

            That distracted Lee from his impending confession.

            “Yeah, I guess you’ve been gone a long time, haven’t you?” As Lee regarded Logan, his expression softened. “Are you adjusting to it alright?”

            “Me?” Logan scoffed and shoved his knee against Lee again, rougher this time. “I’ve been dead for thirty years. I should be asking you that question.”

            Lee didn’t say anything to that. He bit his lip and looked down, away from Logan, until his gaze landed on his own hands. They looked the same as they always had, right down to the broken blood vessel marking one of his left knuckles. They felt the same, too—the same warm skin, and beneath that, Lee had discovered during a violent bout of existentialism some weeks ago, the same blood, too.

            “I’m fine,” Lee muttered. He didn’t look up, but he heard Logan huff another humorless laugh.

            “You got your heart blown out of your body three months ago, and now your entire personality is just a hard drive piloting a meat suit that was grown in a lab. Don’t tell me you’re fine.”

            Lee grimaced at Logan’s words, but crude as they were, he knew they were right.

            “Doesn’t it bother you?” Lee asked. “To look at yourself and see the same you you’ve always known, but knowing it’s all different underneath?”

            Logan sighed, but Lee detected something different in his tone—he sounded more pensive and less annoyed. Lee looked up again to find Logan moving to sit crisscross on the table, his hands steepling in his lap.

            “That’s nothing I haven’t been through before,” Logan said. Lee opened his mouth to ask, but then he remembered a photo shoot of Logan he’d found long ago, back when he was still doing research for Hector’s appearance. Lee’s eyes flickered down to Logan’s chest, and he briefly wondered if Maeve had recreated the thin, flowing, beautiful scars there when she rebuilt Logan’s body in the lab.

            “Besides,” Logan continued, “after spending so long with the Forge, I’m just glad to _have_ a body again. Doesn’t matter to me where it came from or what’s inside.”

            Lee hummed thoughtfully and nodded.

            “I suppose it _is_ better than being dead,” he admitted, and Logan laughed.

            “Hey, that’s the spirit!”

            Lee smiled at Logan, and after a moment’s consideration, he leaned over to bump his shoulder against Logan’s knee.

            “Thank you,” he said. “I don’t know if Maeve put you up to this or not, but in any case, I appreciate it.”

            “Yeah, yeah.” Logan waved Lee off, but he didn’t look bothered by the casual contact, which Lee took as an encouraging sign. “The first thing you need to know about me, Lee, is that nobody puts me up to anything.”

            “What’s the second thing?” Lee asked, before he could think better of it. Logan smirked down at him in response.

            “The second thing is that I’m trying to end a thirty-year dry spell and I’ve always had a weakness for blue-eyed bookworms.” Logan’s eyes simmered as they bored into Lee’s. “If you’re interested.”

            Lee flushed dark red again and began stammering.

            “Wh-wh--I--now?!”

            Logan laughed.

            “Relax, there’s no expiration date. But if you wanna be the man who took the virginity of Logan Delos 2.0, the clock’s ticking fast…”

            Logan slid off the table and raised one wrist to check his watch. He made a small hum of confirmation and turned to begin walking out of the room. Lee turned to watch him go—but almost right away, he realized something, and he took off after Logan.

            “Logan, you can’t go _outside!_ You’re literally a dead celebrity, someone would recognize you right away!”

            Logan only laughed louder.

            “Fucking twat,” Lee hissed, and he picked up the pace.

            “I mean it, Logan, you could get us all permanently _killed!_ Maeve stuck out her necks for us, and this is how you repay her?! I’m gonna go get Hector, and then he’ll—”

* * *

 

            Maeve stood serene with Hector in the garden, watching grackles flit like living oilspills through the branches of all the oak trees, when she heard a sudden commotion. She turned slowly, peacefully, and was met with the sight of Sizemore and Logan rollicking and arguing on the ground, just outside the courtyard doors.

            “Maeve, help!” Sizemore called out, between bouts of swearing and bursts of Logan’s raucous laughter. “He’s trying to go out in _public!”_

            Maeve stood watching the scene, one eyebrow raised in silence.

            “Do you want me to collect them?” Hector asked. Maeve sniffed and shook her head.

            “No, I think this is exactly what we need.”

            Hector tilted his head and frowned at Maeve. She smiled up at him and reached to cradle his jaw, petting the stubble beneath her thumb.

            “Perhaps now Sizemore will stop looking at your arse.”


End file.
